


Of Herbs and Berries

by candlelight27



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Beware, Fluff, It's too sweet, SO MUCH FLUFF, forest, herbs and berries, sigurd being a poet, sigurd being cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight27/pseuds/candlelight27
Summary: You are picking up herbs and flowers and Sigurd appears to help you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self indulgent fanfic and ended up too fluffy.  
> If the style is different, it's because I translated it from my mother tongue. I hope there's no problem with this (actually I though it could help me refresh the vocabulary somehow??)  
> As always I hope you enjoy this! :) I didn't like Sigurd in the beginning but then I fell for him... he's a fellow poet after all.

Beams of light seeped through the leaves of the trees. It was early and the moss was still moistened by the dew. Birds sang chirpings of delight which echoed along the forest, the only sounds that disturbed the calm of morning.

Your naked feet stepped with care the ground. You bent down over the base of the trunks, over the flowers and over the stones in search of tender stems. In your basket lied lifeless various plants of sweet aromas to prepare all kind of salves and potions. With your delicate fingers, as if time had vanished, you reached some fruits. The berries kissed your skin and the bush swayed softly.

Setting your mind on ones too high, you hopped in vain. However, just in the moment in which you were going to resume your chores, a hand white like the moon’s light rose before you. It took the mistletoe you wanted and offered it to you.

Sigurd, marvelled, had been observing you. Your movements had created an enchanting dance, one that set on a war in his interior, for the young man adored watching you just as if you were a spirit of the forest, so extraordinaire and unattainable, but he could not resist for a long time the desire of your company. His impatience ended up guiding him to you.

A smile settled on your lips while you put the mistletoe in your basket. Before you could talk, he used his voice.

“You came here very early.” At his awakening, Sigurd had expected seeing you face, as usual, wandering the home.

“Your mother asked me to look for some plants for her.” You answered, and made a gesture towards the recollected flowers. “This is the best hour.”

“Can I help you?”

“I don’t want you to neglect nor duties nor pleasure just to help a simple servant.”

“I insist.”

“Then I can only thank you.”

You took his hand and went even deeper into the forest.

You always loved the attention Sigurd paid to you. You didn’t understand well why he was so obliging with you, because you were little more than a slave. But this fact didn’t prevent you from enjoying his kindness.

His hands were strong and you noticed on the pads of your fingers his calluses, from his weapons and his lute. He followed you in silence, fearing he’d break a spell if he pronounced any word. You pointed some mushrooms on the bottom of a trunk. They could be used to induce a divine trance when mixed with expertise; you had been looking for them expressly. The young man took them as you searched some more around the nearby trees.

Sigurd sang a melody. You stared at him, even though he had his back to you so you could only see his blonde hair. Someday the gods would be pleased by his voice in the great Valhalla; your ears were yet to find a troubadour that could excite your heart as much.

“Sigurd, who were you singing to the other night?” Your curiosity won.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. It was such a beautiful music I couldn’t resist taking interest in it.”

He turned around with his hands full, and you approached him and offered the basket. He was nervous, his cheeks blushed and his gaze flying in every way possible. His song was about you, his love, but he didn’t intend you to hear it. An unexpected shame invaded his body and he was unable to answer your question.

“I’m sorry, it does not concern me.” Your eyes acquired certain sadness before the mere thought of Sigurd being in love. It wouldn’t be strange if he was seeking the pleasures of love, and you presumed he had found them in other person. To think about his caresses and kisses seemed a futureless dream.

“[Name], did you eat something this morning?”

“No.”

“There are some blueberries here.” He pointed a side.

“My prince, always so attentive… You should let me take care of you, and not the other way. It is my duty.” You brought one berry to your mouth.

“Why?” Sigurd himself took another blueberry and moved it to your lips. You accepted it, your pulse raced; it was something you had seen married couples doing, and the action surprised you to a large extent.

“Isn’t it obvious that you should pay attention to the ones sharing your status and not…?” You didn’t know how to continue.

“Perhaps you can control your attachments?” He smiled tenderly and you shook your head.

“I don’t have to worry about those matters.”

A sigh and he took one of your hands in his, and placed the other on you cheek. He slid his thumb across your skin, from your cheekbone to your jaw, drawing slow patterns. His face displayed distraction, thoughts flowing through his mind.

“You are free, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Therefore you can reject my love if you don't want it.”

“I didn’t mean to say that… I would never reject you.”

“If what you say is true, let me tell you who provoked my words the other night.” He moved closer little by little, and this time it was you who was bewitched by him. “It’s your eyes the ones with a shine the stars would envy.” He freed your hand and caressed your eyelids. “It’s your mouth the one that laughs as sweet as warm honey.” Your lips received his touch then, and his hand returned to yours like a warrior returns home after a battle. “And it’s your body where I want to take shelter when sadness conquers me.”

He led your face to his and took captive your lips in a kiss. In the same way his voice and his eye, his kisses looked like they were graced by the gods.

“Sigurd… It makes me so happy to know you share my feelings.” You gave him another kiss upon his cheek, and you could swear you had never seen a smile so sincere and filled of happiness like the one his teeth were showing. “Let’s return home,” you continued “for I want to hold you in my arms as soon as it is possible.”


End file.
